


Thirsty Work

by fourfreedoms



Series: A Handy Guide To Making You Feel Good [2]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Cunnilingus, M/M, Oral Sex, Sex swap, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-13
Updated: 2015-02-13
Packaged: 2018-03-12 04:43:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3344057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fourfreedoms/pseuds/fourfreedoms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“Um…” Patrick says, staring at the water beading down over the curve of one breast and along his taut stomach.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“What?” Jonny asks, furrowing his brows.</i>
</p><p>Patrick finally gets the chance to lend a helping hand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thirsty Work

**Author's Note:**

> And at long last, the +1 you were all waiting for. When debating what to call this series, joyfulseeker suggested "It's fourfreedom's fault we now have to come up with a title for a series." Whatever. I would just like to point out that this did not end up being 26,000 words of Patrick boning Jonathan Toews. So. I win.

When Jonny gets TTS’d, he doesn’t notice any better than Patrick did. Clearly he didn’t see it coming ahead of time either, because when he walks out of the bathroom after a shower, all long legs and willowy limbs, pert breasts on display, he’s obviously got no idea why Patrick’s staring at him like the ceiling just dropped in on him. He makes a good girl—better than Patrick would’ve expected—with messy chin length hair and great big eyes. 

“Um…” Patrick says, staring at the water beading down over the curve of one breast and along his taut stomach. 

“What?” Jonny asks, furrowing his brows. He follows the direction of Patrick’s gaze and then screams, dropping his towel and nearly falling over. Patrick’s glad to know he at least reacted better than that whenever it happened. “Holy hell!” 

Patrick hadn’t even bothered to get out of bed yet, still in his pajama pants and the Kanye West for APC t-shirt Jonny bought him, but he throws off the covers now, managing to swoop in close while Jonny’s distracted by his new breasts. Jonny really likes breasts, so he shouldn’t be surprised that Jonny can’t stop poking at his own. Really, wet and naked is a good look for him though. Patrick can’t fault him. 

“Hi,” Patrick says, when they’re eye-to-eye and holy shit, they’re the same height now. That’s just fucking beautiful. He can’t stop the grin from widening on his face. 

Jonny looks at him, wary. “What are you—” he breaks off when Patrick reaches out, dragging his hips in close and then hauling him up into the air. He parts his thighs, legs sliding naturally around Patrick’s hips as if they’d done this a million times before. “Oh my g—” he starts up again only to stop when Kaner backs him up into the wall, grinding his fabric-covered dick in against Jonny’s new pussy. His breath catches in his throat and he wraps his arms tight around Patrick’s neck reflexively. Yeah, that feels good. Patrick knows, he’s been on both sides of it now. 

“Hey, babe,” Patrick says, smiling at him before diving in for a kiss. Jonny squirms, but Patrick's estimates he’s got fifty pounds on him now. He's not going anywhere. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” Jonny asks, but his cheeks are pink. 

“I’ve been a good boy, haven’t I?” Patrick asks, voice low, rocking his hips up against him. Jonny exhales and turns his head, pressing his cheek to wall. 

Jonny replies, breathless, "Oh, you getting off on this? So fucking easy, Peeks."

“For you? Yeah,” Patrick answers. He doesn’t miss the way that makes Jonny shiver against him

“You didn’t ask if I wanted to fuck around,” Jonny points out, as if Patrick can’t feel the way he’s flexing against the wall, working their hips together. As if Patrick can’t hear his little hitching breaths. 

Patrick’s been rubbing his palms along the underside of Jonny’s thighs, long sweeps that edge up to the fantastic ass that Jonny managed to keep even in this body. “Oh no?” he says, stilling his hands. He moves like he’s going to let Jonny down and Jonny’s legs tighten reflexively around him to keep him close. He laughs, delighted. 

“Oh shut up,” Jonny grouses. He pushes his shoulders against the wall and arches away from it, pressing his whole body along Patrick’s front, breasts crushed to his chest. Christ, Patrick can feel him getting wet through the thin cotton of his pj pants. 

Patrick palms his ass with both hands. Jonny’s thighs are splayed so wide, it’s easy to run the very tips of his fingers along Jonny’s folds as he coasts his hands back and forth along his strong hamstrings. “Can I?” Patrick asks, bending his head to nip at his throat. They both know what he’s asking. 

Jonny inhales. He pauses, like he’s thinking before finally saying: “yes.” 

Patrick grins into his neck and then back away from the wall, still holding Jonny up. His dresser is right there and Patrick clears a space before setting him down upon it. 

“What are you—” he starts when Patrick drops to his knees between Jonny’s open thighs. 

“Showing you how the master does it,” Patrick tells him. 

“Fuck’s sake,” Jonny replies, snorting with laughter. “You gonna draw 88 on my clit, Peeks? School me good?” 

Jonny can mock all he wants. Patrick is aces at this. He spreads Jonny’s lips with two fingers and curls his tongue up nice and slow over Jonny’s clit. Jonny tenses up, the slender fingers of his new hands gripping the edge of the dresser hard. In response, Patrick drags the point of his tongue back down and up, flickering it over his clit. It’s been a good couple of months since he had last occasion to do this—since before he started sleeping with Jonny. He hasn’t missed it exactly. Fucking around with Jonny all the normal ways that are available to him is more than enough. But he does appreciate the way Jonny slumps back against the wall, head lolling drunkenly on his neck like he’s completely out of his head, thigh muscles clenching and loosening as Patrick licks him so soft and sweet. 

Patrick pushes in closer, gets one of Jonny’s thighs slung over his shoulder tonguing just alongside his clit and up over the hood, avoiding the stiffened nub, just edging it with his tongue. When he looks up, he finds Jonny’s got a hand fisted in his own hair, soft looking strands coiled around his fingertips, while he cups his breast with the other, thumb circling over the nipple. His eyes are shut tight, he’s that lost in it. Patrick finally strokes the flat of his tongue over Jonny’s clit and Jonny jerks, back stretching into a pornographic arch. 

Patrick pulls back and Jonny’s eyes slowly open back up to look at him. “You taste good, you know?” Patrick tells him, scraping his teeth over the full swell of his lower lip. 

“Oh shit,” Jonny breathes, reaching out to trace over the curve of his mouth with a fingertip. Patrick holds his gaze as he catches it with his tongue, sliding it down over the salty skin. Jonny shudders, stomach muscles going tight. 

Patrick presses his lips to the inside of Jonny’s thigh. “Lemme fuck you,” he says. 

Jonny pauses, hands coming back down on the edge of the dresser. He looks conflicted, scared a little. Patrick gets it. Jonny’s never had a dick inside him. They haven’t done that yet—maybe they never will. That’s okay. If Jonny says no right now, Patrick will gladly go back to putting his mouth on him. But he thinks—god he thinks Jonny would like this. Patrick loves his dick and he loves it when Jonny fucks him in this body, but there are times, short moments that he will never admit to, that he does miss the way it had felt to be so much smaller than Jonny, so thoroughly at his mercy. The way Jonny could just move him to where he wanted him, sometimes Patrick still thinks about it.

He cocks an eyebrow at Jonny and tells him, honestly, "It's an experience, for sure." He lays his cheek on the inside of Jonny’s thigh, waiting for an answer. “C’mon, I want to try everything with you,” he wheedles, when he blinks his eyelashes catch on Jonny’s sensitive skin. Patrick watches his lips tighten. 

He leans back against the wall, eyes slitted. “Get up here then.” 

Patrick grins, pulling himself up, tangling his fingers in Jonny’s messy short hair and dragging him in for a kiss, and wow, Jonny kisses the same. Even though the feel of him, breasts and slim biceps, the unexpected baby softness of his jawline, is completely different, it’s so indelibly Jonny in his arms, muscling him right where he wants him.

“You gonna take your clothes off?” Jonny asks breathlessly when Patrick breaks the kiss. 

Patrick strips off his shirt and shucks off the pajama pants while Jonny watches him, eyes intent. Patrick stares back, fisting his dick lazily. Jonny rocks back on his hands and opens his thighs, revealing the delicate pink of his pussy. "Yeah, yeah, we know you're a big boy," he says, but his voice is hoarse.

Patrick moves in close, spreading Jonny's folds open for him with those same two fingers. Jonny breathes out in a long stream as Patrick fits the thick head of his cock at Jonny's entrance. The sound he makes when Patrick pushes inside is exquisite. Patrick blinks his eyes closed at the sudden tight wet clutch of Jonny's pussy.

"Fuck," Patrick tells him. Jonny digs his teeth into the corner of his lip and moans.

Patrick resituates himself, moving so that Jonny's legs are hooked over his forearms, split apart around his bulk. The dresser is just the right height to brace his palms on either side of Jonny’s hips and fuck back into that liquid heat. Jonny cries out, breasts heaving, his spreading flush extending down to the perfect swells of them. God, he makes a good girl. Who knew. Patrick loves the way he’s taking his dick, pretty cunt parting so easily around the thick girth of it, the elastic flexibility of Jonny’s thighs as Patrick bears down with more of his weight. 

“Are you—are you giving yourself a play-by-play?” Jonny asks, putting his hand down on the dresser top and pushing, flexing right into Patrick’s next thrust. 

Patrick must’ve let go of his internal monologue again. “Fuck, shut up,” he says. “You feel good.” 

That gets Jonny right where he lives. Patrick can tell from the way he clenches down around him, another shudder rocking through him. Always so fucking eager to please—Jonny is. Patrick chuckles, pressing a kiss to Jonny’s throat. Jonny’s not terribly noisy in bed by nature, but he starts letting out these soft huffing gasps when Patrick pushes in even closer, folding his knees back toward his chest. It changes the angle up, nearly lifting Jonny’s hips up off the dresser-top. Jonny’s so tight around Patrick now he can barely breathe. 

“Oh,” Jonny says, sweeping his arms out and knocking cufflinks and product and picture frames off the dresser top in the attempt to get leverage. “Oh fuck!” 

“Yeah?” Patrick asks, keeping the rhythm of his hips steady. “You close? Just from this?” 

“You—you wanted to try things, buddy,” Jonny bites out. 

“God, do I,” Patrick replies, breathless, “Want you to ride me, ugh, for hours, just so I could feel you fucking yourself on my dick,” he raises his hand, swiping a thumb across Jonny’s nipple, before tweaking it. “What would you do, Jonny? Would you take me deep?”

Jonny moans again, body rippling. Patrick feels it in the hot cling of his pussy. His voice comes out ragged, full of gravel, “I wanna fuck you on your knees, sweet baby jesus, so I can look at your beautiful ass.” 

Jonny twines his arms back around Patrick’s neck, fingers tangling in the curls at his nape. His face is so red now—just the way he gets when he’s been working out hard. As Patrick strokes smoothly in and out, he says, juddery and slow, like it’s hard to put together the words, “We’ll find...a way...to make it work.” 

Patrick laughs, slightly hysterical. There’s no way he’s gonna survive that without coming and there’s no way he’s gonna ask Jonny to forego orgasm for hours just so Patrick can get his kicks. “You kidding me?” 

Jonny tightens his fingers in Patrick’s hair, a spasm crossing his face as Patrick shoves in hard. "I meant—I meant as a guy." Patrick swears, arms nearly collapsing out from under him. He was not expecting that. Jonny brings one of his hands down to cup the back of Patrick's neck, thumbing the hollow under his skull. "Unless that was a one-time offer."

Fuck Jonny for always managing to pull the rug out from under him. Patrick’s thrusts have gone erratic and desperate, but Jonny takes it, legs wrapped tight around Patrick’s middle. He’s stroking through Patrick’s hair and it reminds him so thoroughly of the first time they ever fucked on that stupid bathroom counter, Patrick with his long curls and magnificent breasts, only it was Jonny who was fucking him hard and gentling him through it at the same time. 

Patrick curses again. He’s hurtling towards orgasm much too fast. 

“C’mon, do it,” Jonny gasps. 

“Yeah?” Patrick asks. “You want me to finish you off with my mouth?” 

Jonny turns his cheek into Patrick’s shoulder without answering. He’s hanging on to Patrick tight now, rocked back by every powerful stroke of Patrick’s hips. 

“Don’t think I—don’t think I didn’t notice how much of a wreck you were,” Patrick tells him. Jonny’s nails bite into the skin of his shoulders, a bright zing of pain cutting through the sweet pressure on his cock. He’s going to have welts there. The thought pleases him. Jonny’s always so careful. It amazes him sometimes. 

Patrick gets his hands back on Jonny’s thighs, palms spread-fingered across the firm flesh as he drags them up the backs, mapping out each flex and pull of the muscles there. He doubts Jonny’s lower back will let him do this when he’s back in his regular body, so Patrick takes the chance to enjoy it.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he says. When Jonny shakes his head, Patrick crowds in, practically bending Jonny in half. Jonny moans like he relishes the stretch. Patrick bets he does, that perfect burning ache, pushing his body just this side of too much. He looks like a porn star, that insane flexile give to his muscles. Jesus, Patrick is pretty sure he couldn’t bend this much when he was a girl. Patrick turns his head and brushes a kiss across the delicate knob of Jonny’s ankle and then starts driving in hard and desperate, presses as close to Jonny as he could possibly get. 

When he comes, it’s a white-out moment, head hanging low on his neck, while he takes deep bracing breaths. It takes him a while to realize he’s hanging on to Jonny’s ankle, fingers wrapped tight around it, not until Jonny flexes his foot and he feels the tendons shifting under the skin. Patrick lets go and Jonny’s calf drops boneless onto his shoulder. 

“You need a sec?” Jonny asks, voice full of humor. 

Oh, Patrick is going to make him beg. He pulls out and tugs Jonny up off the dresser. Jonny squawks in surprise, limbs flailing. He gasps when Patrick dumps him back onto his bed, amidst the mound of pillows Patrick keeps piled up against the headboard. 

“Spread ‘em,” he tells Jonny. 

“Wait,” Jonny says, scooting backwards to lean against the pillows and lifting a hand to ward him off. “You came inside me.” 

“So?” Patrick says, laying down flat on his stomach. He gently pushes Jonny’s legs apart, hands on his knees, and leans down. Licking a stripe up over his slit, some of it’s already starting to seep out, thick and white. Jonny twists underneath his mouth and Patrick has to slide his hands down and grab his hips to keep him still. 

Jonny inhales sharply when Patrick thrusts two fingers inside of him and starts working him over with his tongue. He can tell from the immediate trembling in Jonny’s thighs it’s not going to take much. That’s excellent for his ego, but also not the point. He backs off a little with the pressure of his tongue and Jonny starts cursing. Patrick slows to lazy languorous swipes and stills his fingers altogether. 

“Jesus christ, Patrick,” Jonny breathes. “Were you this much of a fucking tease with all the girls?” 

Patrick chuckles, lapping over his clit. The sound Jonny makes can’t be described as anything other than a keen. It's the easiest thing ever to get Jonny there, a little ways further, and then back off yet again. He does this over and over as Jonny gets wetter and wetter under Patrick’s mouth. Soon, he’s scrabbling his heels on the sheets for leverage, trying to push up against Patrick's weight. Patrick crooks his fingers inside Jonny's cunt, pressing them to his g-spot. Jonny’s got a hand buried in his own hair again, pulling like it’s gonna ground him. Just a little nudge, that’s all Jonny needs. 

“Oh god, Peeks,” Jonny says, arching. “Please!” 

And that’s it. That’s what Patrick was waiting for. He draws the point of his tongue right where Jonny needs it, flickering over his clit. And just as he feels Jonny coming apart, shaking against his mouth he switches it up, swirling it repeatedly in the shape of an 88. 

“You dipshit,” Jonny tells him as he falls over the edge, raised up on the points of his toes, all of his muscles standing out in sharp relief. “You think I—ung—you think I can’t fucking tell what you did there?” 

Patrick snorts with laughter. Jonny’s abruptly male again, strong legs bracketing Patrick’s body on the bed. All of the tension in him lets go, arm dropping down to the bed with a thump. “Move,” he grunts, nudging Patrick with his knee. It’s only 10 AM, but Jonny looks completely wiped. It takes a long time for his breath to slow, and even as it does, his eyelids are drooping, head nodding on the pillow. 

“And you were mocking me?” Patrick says pointedly, sitting back on his heels. 

Jonny groans and twitches. “Ugh, sleeping now. Good job, buddy.” He waves a hand in Patrick’s general direction, rolls over, and pulls up the sheet. Within moments, he’s under and Patrick's left speculatively eyeing the rear-view. God, every last person on the planet knows this, but Jonny’s a fucking renaissance statue from the bottom of his legs to the beautiful muscles layered up along his spine. The way the sheet lovingly clings to his ass, rucked up edge just stopping at his back dimples, well—he's got some new plans to make here.

After locating his pajama pants and pulling them up, he leaves the room, gently closing the door behind him. He knows one thing for sure. He’s still the undefeated master of oral sex. And if Jonny ever gets TTS’d again, they can have a rematch just so Patrick can win all over again. For now though, he settles with taking a victory lap around the apartment that ends with a pit-stop at the fridge. It’s a little early for a beer, but Patrick figures he’s earned it. That was some thirsty work.

**Author's Note:**

> joyfulseeker: My first series! And it's magical girl transformation! I'M SO PROUD. NO IRONY.  
> fourfreedoms: yeah, you have to write the next one. TO BALANCE IT OUT HERE.  
> Joyfulseeker: I like our deal better the other way. Where I chatfic stuff and it magically becomes fic.  
> fourfreedoms: ugh
> 
> (What you should take from this? We have totally planned out more and you should go bother joyfulseeker to supply it for you.)


End file.
